The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1887-09-22
MERE G0UBET,S JOURNEY

road on either side lights were beginning
10 twinkle. At one end through the
open door, the smithy fire sent a ruddv
glow half way across the road. Sounds
issued thence, but not those of the ham.
tn rner' though there were regular strokes.
Two or three houses off a woman stood in
her doorway, and she was joined by two
or three others whoran out of their Gotta
ges as the sounds came to their ears.
Fle, then, it is a shame It is the
second time that he has beaten him to-
day!" cried one.
but he will kill him /" said Younger
woman who carried baby. and whose
oonny face turned white under her snowy
cap
$50 much the better,' said an older
voice; " he will go to the good God.
and that is the place for all the misera-
ble."
No, no, he won't kill him. said
another. "Maitre Joseph was not born
yesterday. The child is worth too much
to him"
That is true, but some one ought,
nevertheless, to interfere. For me, wish
1t well but every one knows that Maitre
ooscpl IL my landlord.
"And as for me, my husband owes him
money-that is misfortune.
cit is NJ lie Cure who ought to do it.
but all the world knows he is also afraid
of him."
AT this point the attention of the vii
layers was diverted by the sight of a
stranger-a middle-aged woman, who
was coming along the road. Her head
was tied up in shawl, and she was
warmly and decently dressed. and she
carried bundle and walked with stick.
The women watched her till she came TO
the door of the smithy, and there, to
their surprise, she stopped, and, after lin
gering awhile, went in.
Truly" said the last speaker, "one
could not buy civility at that market
how droll she is Where can she have
come from?" and the tongues set to work
on conjecture.
In the smithy the sorrowful sounds had
ceased before the traveller reached the
door. The blacksmith, a great brawny
fellow, had turned to the finishing of a
piece Of work before giving up for the
night, and was heating the iron which
would soon resound to his vigorous
strokes. At the bellows stood a little
boy, shock headed and barefooted, his
chest still heaving with the pitiful sobs
of repressed trouble. Maitre Joseph
perceived that some one was intercepting
the failing light, and turning round, saw
the stranger. "Pardon, monsieur, but
will you allow me to warm myself by
your tre?"
The blacksmith stared. The sight of
a stranger in the out Of the way village
was in itself surprising; but there was
something peculiar in the newcomers
voice, and in the melancholy, penetrating
eyes with which she regarded him. Maitre
Joseph knew how to be civil.
Enter, madame" he said "you are
welcome"
stood by the side of the lad, who turned
upon her curious yet frightened stare,
while the blacksmith at his work piled
his guest with questions, to which she re-
piled very briefly. Her name was Gou-
bet, she said she came from a village
some leagues away, and was going on TO
the bills to join her son. Meanwhile the
gaze of the little boy increased in inten-
sity, for he found himself the object of in
comprehensive signs and gestures, which
the stranger gave expression to with her
back turned to Maitre Joseph. In the
changing gloom and glow, as the bellows
expanded and contracted, he was half
terrified, half fascinated by this strange
face that tried to make him-httle Pierre,
who was of no use but to pull the bellows
and be beaten-understand them-what
he could not tell But he soon perceived
it was something friendly. BY and by the
blacksmith went near the door, and un-
der cover of the hammer strokes the
Mere Goubet began to speak in a low,
hurried whisper.
"See, then, little one; thou hast a
cruel master, thou art miserable Save
thyself, then; come with me and We will
go to seek my little son, who is thy age
exactly. Wilt thou"
Little Pierre's eyes and mouth were
wide open; he had no other language.
"Quick, then, tell me, is there shed
where one conld spend the night down
the road toward the hills, not close
here?"
Pierre's eyes glittered with intelli-
gence; he nodded.
"See, then, my child, will await thee
on the road. Get away at an early hour
and run. Wilt thou?'
Again Pierre nodded. 1t was kind
voice that spoke to him, and it would be
a fine thing not to pull the bellows nor
be beaten any more That was enough.
"Good night, monsieur" said the Mere
Goubet, passing the blacksmith on her
way out; Il thank you for your good
ness"
Maitre Joseph watched her till the
gloom swallowed her mp. .s.
"My faith" said he, Struggling his
shoulders, "one would say she was mad"
In the early dawn of the following
morning a~wild little figure, shock
headed and barefooted, fled down the
same straight white road that led to the
hills. Cleaving the chill gray mist, his
small legs flying in the air, he sped along
till, a couple of kilometers on, he reached
the outlying shed of an isolsted farm
house. At the door Mere Goubet awaited
him, peering out anxiously for his coming.
She caught him by the arm and drew him
in, sat down on milking stool, and looked
at him with eyes whose depths of wist-
fulness redeemed her broad face from
commOnness.
"Thou hast never had q mother" she
ssid at last "one sees it in thy face.
Thou hast never loved any one, is that
not 50 pr" ie"